


High Kings and Writers

by Bookworm1121



Series: Queliot One Shots [14]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rockstars, singer eliot, writer quentin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm1121/pseuds/Bookworm1121
Summary: When Quentin was assigned to write about the band, High Kings, he expects to hate them. He soon realizes he's wrong when he falls for the lead singer.





	High Kings and Writers

At eight years old, Quentin wanted to become a writer. Over the years, his passion grew to listening to music and culture. He had his tastes in music, and he had his dislikes for most rock music, especially the newest rock band, High Kings.

 

Needless to say, Quentin’s shock when Henry Fogg assigned him to go on tour with High Kings. Henry knew Quentin hated the band (his opinion was not a secret to anyone). Quentin, dressed in his dress pants and a button-down, stormed into Fogg’s office, frustrated and confused.

 

“Fogg, why am I assigned to High Kings?”

 

Henry looked towards Quentin, “Coldwater, please sit. I would rather know exactly where you are sitting rather than trying to find your voice in the room.”

 

Quentin sighed, running a hand through his hair. Quentin often forgot about Henry’s blindness. Henry barely spoke about his sight. Quentin only heard about what happened through his coworkers. He heard Henry’s eyes were pulled out by an angry songwriter. There were stories about a house fire and Henry falling. Quentin never asked Henry, and he never listened to the stories. Gossip was rarely the truth.

 

“You are the only person who will not kiss up to the band, and they wanted someone to treat them like they were normal.”

 

“I hate them though; wouldn’t that be just as bad as kissing up to them? I would put my dislike in the writing and the review.”

 

“You could become surprised about how much you like them rather than become disappointed about the dislike of them. Plus, Ms. Wicker mentioned you needed to take on a challenge, and this will be a challenge for you.”

 

“What would I do?”

 

“They leave in two days, and they will pick you up here. You will go on tour with them for eight weeks and then remember your experience there.”

 

“Okay, and even if I hate them, it will be posted?”

 

“If they are horrible human beings, the media needs to know, right? Why should they make so much money if they are horrible people?”

 

Quentin sat, thinking. He did need a challenge, and he could find a way to write without bias, “Fine, I’d do it.”

 

“Good, but Mr. Coldwater, I need to warn you about the lead singer, Eliot Waugh.”

 

“What about him?”

 

“He tends to get around. Don’t get messed up with him.”

 

“I’m not going to fall for him.”

 

“Quentin,” Henry said. Quentin raised his eyebrows, surprised by the use of his first name, “I have gotten to know you since you began to work here. I’ve listened and observed the struggles you went through. I know the real reason you were out of work for three weeks last year, and I hear the anxiety pills that jingle in your pocket.”

 

Quentin swallowed, shifting uncomfortably, “So?”

 

“If Eliot smiles at you and gives you compliments, don’t fall for them.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be careful.”

 

. . .

 

In the early morning, Quentin waited at the agency for High King’s tour bus. Julia helped him back his outfits and belongings. He ignored Julia slipping a pack of condoms into his suitcase.

 

“You need to send me photos, okay?” Julia said, spinning in her chair, “You need to text me every day too, okay. If you ever need to talk to me, message me and talk to me. No matter what.”

 

“Of course, I will keep you updated. I won’t do something to get me hurt.”

 

Julia kissed Quentin’s cheek as the bus pulled up. The doors opened, and Eliot walked out to greet Quentin. “Hello, prepare to be amazed.”

 

“Here we go,” Quentin muttered.

 

“I’m Eliot Waugh,” Eliot smirked, looking Quentin up and down, “And you’re hot.”

 

Quentin sputtered, blushing, “That’s inappropriate!”

 

Julia laughed, “I’m going to get going. Have fun, Quentin.”

 

“At the moment, everyone is asleep. We will introduce you to them later. Let me show you around.”

 

Quentin grabbed his suitcase, following Eliot onto the bus. When he walked on, he stared, surprised, “How is the bus so big?”

 

“It’s a double bus. We sleep on the top part, and we hang out on the bottom.”

 

Quentin rolled his eyes, “Not going to happen.”

 

“Fogg tells me you aren’t a fan,” Elio said, walking along the bus.

 

“Not a fan of rock music, but I’m going to do it based off more about you guys and how you interact.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“If you are a dick, then you are exposed as a dick.”

 

Eliot laughed, “So what if it’s a mask. Me pretending?”

 

“Then the world will only know you like a mask.”

 

Quentin looked at Eliot, curiously. He wondered what the next weeks would go while he stayed with Eliot.

 

. . .

 

Two weeks into the tour, Eliot came back drunk. Margo and Fen decided that sleeping in a bus was uncomfortable—Quentin couldn’t blame them—so they were staying in a hotel. Margo and Fen were staying in the same room, and Eliot and Quentin were staying in the same place. Quentin tried fighting the idea, knowing how often Eliot came home with lovers, but Margo insisted.

 

Quentin went back to the room right after the concert. He needed to look at his notes and observations about the band members.

 

_After a day into meeting the crew, Fen automatically welcomed me. She was excited to meet me, and she continues to welcome me to the group. In my personal opinion, Fen is the nicest of the three. She is sweet, but she also is very protective of both Margo and Eliot. Margo is very strong-willed. She seems to have a snarky attitude toward people, and she tends to make rude comments towards me. However, she does have a soft side. In a few moments, she comes to me to ask questions and ask advice about a problem she may be facing. Then there is Eliot. Eliot was the first person who met me, and he was the first person to talk to me. I don’t think he likes me very much and I am trying to find the Real Eliot Waugh. However, I think all I will see is the cover the places and the mask he fakes._

 

Quentin startled, when Eliot loudly opened the door, “Eliot?”

 

“Quentin!” Eliot cheered, “How did you like our concert? Are you beginning to like the art of rock?”

 

“It was loud, but the music and all were good.”

 

“What about my singing?”

 

“Your singing is always good,” Quentin shrugged, “Though, I wished you’d stop lip-syncing the high notes.”

 

“Why?” Eliot asked, falling onto Quentin’s bed, “What’s bad with that?”

 

“Nothing,” Quentin shrugged, “Most singers do it, but I’d like to hear your range.”

 

Eliot sat up, looking at Quentin, “But what if I mess up, and it’s all over the news?”

 

“Eliot, your fans are going to love you no matter what. Plus, if you mess up, you can always say that you were sick.”

 

“But that’s lying.”

 

“All the singers do it. If you aren’t comfortable doing it on stage, show me sometime,” Quentin shrugged, “I want to show the real people behind the band.”

 

“Even though you dislike me.”

 

“I don’t dislike you.,” Quentin said. _You dislike me_.

 

Eliot plopped back down, looking at Quentin, “You are a great guy, y’know,” Eliot slurred.

 

“I’ve been told that,” Quentin said, glancing at the time on his laptop, “Shit!”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Quentin glanced around the bed, realizing he was stuck since Eliot’s body blocked him from getting out of the bed. Sighing, Quentin pinched the bridge of his nose, “Can you get the medicine that’s in the drawer next to our beds?”

 

Eliot furrowed his eyebrows together, confused, “Okay,” he said, reaching into the draw. He pulled out a medicine bottle with Quentin’s name, “Sleep meds?”

 

Quentin nodded, “And the other one?”

 

Eliot grabbed it, reading the label, “This is a high dosage for this medicine. It can get me high as fuck if I wanted.”

 

Quentin didn’t say anything, grabbing the bottles from Eliot. Eliot handed Quentin the glass of water, watching him. Quentin took the pills, swallowing them with water.

 

“You have clinical depression?”

 

Quentin nodded, biting his lip. He handed Eliot the bottles and then the cup, “Please don’t abuse my medication.”

 

“How long?”

 

Quentin sighed. The first time he felt alone, he was twelve years old, and his first suicide occurred when he was fifteen, “I’ve been on medicine since I was fifteen.”

 

“You’re like twenty-five now, right?”

 

“Yeah, don’t tell the girls. It’s personal, and I don’t like talking about it. That’s if you remember this in the morning.”

 

Eliot shrugged, rolling off the bed and walking to his own, “Goodnight, Quentin.”

 

Eliot turned off the light, rolling on his side. Quentin smiled slightly. Quentin continued typing on his laptop, concluding his notes.

 

_Eliot Waugh might not be as bad as I thought. I hope he begins to show his true colors to me soon._

. . .

 

Eliot leaned against Quentin’s shoulder humming. Quentin and Eliot became closer after their exchange that night in the hotel room. Quentin didn’t know if Eliot remembered the conversation, but he never mentioned it to Quentin. Quentin, as he got to know Eliot, developed feeling for him. He cursed himself for not keeping more focus on Henry’s warning, and he didn’t know how to face the feelings without getting rejected.

 

“Quentin,” Eliot whined, “Why are you always on that laptop?”

 

“I’m typing notes about the concert tonight,” Quentin said, “Gotta talk about the crowd and how good everyone was.”

 

“Including me?”

 

“Especially you,” Quentin smiled.

 

“Oh my god, get a room!” Margo complained.

 

“Hush,” Eliot said, waving at Margo.

 

Quentin looked down at Eliot, and Eliot looked up at him, “I sang live tonight.”

 

“I know, and I was impressed about your vocals.”

 

“Thanks,” Eliot grinned, “I better read that in your review of yours. How’s it coming?”

 

“Good.”

 

Fen groaned, “Oh my god. I’m going to bed; you too are too flirty for me.”

 

“I’m following you,” Margo said, “Do you wanna make out?”

 

“Definitely,” Fen grinned.

 

Margo and Fen trailed behind each other, going to the second floor of the bus. Quentin and Eliot sat in silence as Quentin typed on his laptop. When Quentin got up to get a drink and snack, Eliot scanned the words Quentin had written.

 

Eliot read aloud, “Eliot shows his talent by singing live and expressing his vocal range. Surprisingly, he sounds almost exactly the High King soundtrack. I am greatly impressed and feel I was wrong by the assumptions I made—”

 

“Eliot, don’t read that!”

 

“—about the band. I am uncertain if I enjoy the music, but I respect everyone in the band. I am forming friendships and—”

 

Quentin shut the laptop, looking at Eliot, “Nosy much?”

 

Eliot smiled, cheekily, “I’m growing on you.”

 

“You all are.”

 

“I am especially though, but do you want to watch a movie? On the television?”

 

“What do you want to watch?”

 

“Let’s watch _God’s Own Country_.”

 

Quentin nodded, sitting next to Eliot. Eliot turned the movie on, looking at Quentin. As the film continued, Eliot and Quentin grew closer together. Eliot’s arm wrapped around Quentin’s shoulder, and Quentin’s head rested on Eliot’s chest. Quentin found himself uninterested in the movie, and instead, he watched Eliot’s reactions to what was unfolding on screen. Eliot glanced down at Quentin, making eye contact with him.

 

Neither of them could say who kissed who first, but they kissed and kissed and kissed. Quentin cupped Eliot’s cheeks, sitting in Eliot’s lap. Eliot’s hands slide under Quentin’s shift, running his hands up and down the skin.

 

The spell broke when a book was dropped from the second floor. Quentin and Eliot pulled apart, panting. They stared at each other, shocked by their actions. Quickly, Eliot leaned back in, kissing Quentin again. Rocking himself, Quentin deepened the kiss.

 

Quentin unbuttoned Eliot’s vest, shakily. He pushed Eliot’s jacket down Eliot’s shoulders and then began unbuttoning Eliot’s shirt, “El,” Quentin gasped.

 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Eliot said, pulling away from Quentin. He stroked Quentin’s cheek, smiling at him, “But we can’t do anything more than make out?”

 

Quentin blinked, “Because of the girls upstairs?”

 

Eliot nodded, trailing kisses Quentin’s neck, “Yeah, but we are going to have so much fun together.”

 

Quentin cupped Eliot’s cheeks, kissing him again, “Awesome.”

 

. . .

 

Eliot opened the hotel room, hand pressed against Quentin’s chest. Quentin walked backward, keeping eye contact with Eliot, “I need to work on my notes.”

 

Eliot smirked, kicking the door shut, “Work on it later. I want to get you out of this,” he said, looking at Quentin’s outfit.

 

After some convincing (and saying it would turn Eliot on), Margo convinced Quentin to wear something to fit in with the bandmates. Margo picked out his outfit and Fen did his makeup. Black eyeliner appeared in his waterline and on his eyelid. His outfit was a white shirt and a leather vest.

 

“Margo said you’d like it,” Quentin smirked, pecking Eliot’s lips.

 

“She was very right, and I’ve wanted to tear you out of the leather since I saw you. I wanted to cause that eyeliner to run down your cheeks because of the pleasure I’m above to give you.”

 

“Cocky, huh?”

 

Eliot pushed Quentin onto the bed, straddling Quentin. Eliot unbuttoned Quentin’s jeaned and slide them down Quentin’s legs, “Do you want me to give you a blow job while I’m down here?”

 

“Please,” Quentin groaned, hitting his head on the bed. Eliot smirked, sliding Quentin’s briefs. Quentin sighed, running a hand through Eliot’s hair as Eliot began.

 

Eventually, Eliot climbed up, kissing Quentin. Quentin kissed him back, unbuttoning Eliot’s shirt, “Why are you still wearing clothes and I’m naked. Seems unfair.”

 

Eliot grinned, cheekily, “Then take off my clothes, Quentin.”

 

Quentin unbuttoned Eliot’s pants, and Eliot kicked them off, quickly. Then, Quentin pushed Eliot’s shirt off Eliot’s shoulders, kissing his collarbone, lightly.

 

Both Eliot and Quentin jumped when Quentin’s phone began to ring. Quentin grabbed it, answering it, “Quentin speaking.”

 

“Quentin,” Henry said.

 

Eliot continued kissing Quentin’s neck, teasing him, “Fogg! What are you calling or?”

 

“I was calling to check in on how the review was going. Are you getting along with everyone?” Henry asked.

 

“Everything is going great! I’m getting along with everyone,” Quentin swallowed as Eliot sucked and licked Quentin’s neck. Quentin bit his lip, hiding the moan and whimpers he was fighting to make, “Yeah. It’s all going great.”

 

Quentin panted, shoving Eliot off him, lightly, “Quentin, are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

 

“I’m fine. I went for a run. But I have to go. Need to write the notes.”

 

“Okay, and I’d be careful, Mr. Coldwater.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Elevators have cameras. You are lucky. I bought the press and got rid of them.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Quentin ended the phone call, looking at Eliot, “So, no more making out in the elevator.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Press got the photos, but Fogg bought them off.”

 

Eliot sighed, hitting his head against Quentin’s shoulder, “Fuck. We need to get better at this, baby.”

 

Quentin smiled slightly at the nickname, pecking Eliot’s lips, “Once I publish the article and things calm down, we can come out with whatever this is.”

 

“You wanna stay with me?”

 

“Yeah, if you’d have me.”

 

Eliot kissed Quentin briefly, “I like you, a lot. And I wanna keep this thing between us.”

 

“What is this?”

 

“We’re sleeping together, and we like spending time together.”

 

“Are we together? Like dating?”

 

“Do you want to be dating?”

 

Quentin bit his lip, thinking, “Are you okay with that?”

 

Eliot thought, sitting up, “I’m known for getting around. Henry probably warned you about me. But I want to stop that. I’m twenty-six years old, and I want to settle down.”

 

“And you’re okay doing that with me?”

 

Eliot leaned over to Quentin, kissing him, “Yeah, I want that.”

 

. . .

 

_Coming to Know the High Kings_

_Written by Quentin M. Coldwater_

_For eight weeks, I took the journey and the mission to know the truths about High Kings, the newest rock band. At first, I was hesitant. I never enjoyed the rock genre, and I never liked how the band presented themselves. However, I soon realized their outside personas are not their true selves._

_The first person I met was Eliot, and he had an ego. Then, I met Fen. Fen is one of the cutest and sweetest people I had ever met. She is fiercely protective and always looking out for others. She reminded me of my best friend, Julia Wicker. Then, I met Margo. Margo has a giant personality and a giant heart._

_The concerts were amazing. The band amazed me with their talent and their ability to keep animated gig after the show. No matter how tired or sick they felt, they always made their fans and audience members see the best version of them — the most interactive and talented versions of themselves. With Eliot’s singing, Fen’s guitar playing, and Margo’s drumming skills, they reunited the sound of rock and roll in a way I never appreciated before._

_During the eight weeks, I became close friends with all of them. They are not the cocky, self-absorbed people I assumed. Instead, they are protective and kind and talented and great people. Vocals-wise, Eliot Waugh amazed me every night about his ability to project and keep his singing voice healthy._

_I hope to continue being their friends and staying in touch especially since I am coming out as bisexual publicly and confirming (with the giant speculation) that I am, in fact, in a relationship with Eliot Waugh._


End file.
